


Winter Masques

by lessiehanamoray



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Christmas, M/M, Post-Game(s), Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 16:33:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21821326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lessiehanamoray/pseuds/lessiehanamoray
Summary: Akira and his friends attend Haru's Christmas party. There he meets a beautiful woman and reunites with an old frenemy. Discussion of suicide. Post Vanilla Persona 5.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 1
Kudos: 36





	Winter Masques

Akira Kurusu sighed. He may have defeated a god yesterday. And he was definitely going to juvenile detention soon, but life went on. In this case, it turned out Mr. Okumura had planned a Christmas Eve ball to announce his daughter's engagement.

Haru had managed to get it pushed back a day, and to get a restraining order on her previously engaged, but she hadn’t cancelled. Instead, she had added her friends from the Phantom Thieves to the invites, even going so far as to secretly get them outfits and masks, Morgana included.

It made for one hell of a Christmas/New Year’s present. And, Akira had to admit, he was more than a little impressed with the fit. He slowly turned, making some adjustments as he looked over himself in the mirror. A classic coat and tails, but predominantly red. Instead of a tie, he wore a form of cravat.

He picked his mask up off the table. The general shape followed his phantom thief mask, but it was colored more like Arsene’s black and red flames. He slid it on.

Perfect fit.

“How do I look?” Morgana asked. Akira smiled at his friend before kneeling down to adjust his small yellow bandit mask. 

“Perfect.”

“Looking good yourself, Joker.”

Akira’s grin stayed easily on his face now. He walked confidently out of the room Haru had provided.

He smiled even more widely when he noted the now unveiled painting on the large stairway. It was one of Yusuke’s paintings from his time under Madarame, the one Anne had loved so much at the exhibition. 

Haru had paid full price for Yusuke’s paintings, claiming that if they were worth that with the name Madarame attached, then they were still worth that much now. Well, sort of. Actually, she had paid the new, much lower, price and given the difference directly to Yusuke. 

Apparently they were talking about doing some sort of charity for Madarame’s students. Something to make sure they got credit for their art.

Akira marvelled at meeting someone as kind as Haru Okumara.

He slid into the grand ballroom, largely unnoticed. Festivities were just beginning.

Ryuji kept adjusting his bizarre yellow and blue tie. Anne easily chatted with some of the early arrivals. Yusuke, in a very colorful ensemble, was gathering a plate of food, Futaba right beside him. Makoto bustled around, helping Haru with the final decorations. Sojiro and Sae hung back, both looking quite unsure about the whole thing.

Morgana bounded over to Anne.

A new set of guests walked in, each wearing rather simple masks. It seemed most people weren’t entirely thrilled with the masquerade theme.

Well, at least it would stop people from asking him about his criminal record too much. Feeling part host and part guest, Akira moved over to talk to them.

Makoto rushed over to the small string and vocal ensemble to tell them to start playing Christmas music.

What would any of them do without her?

Akira idly chatted with guests. Convinced Futaba to dance with him to help break her out of her shell. Grabbed food with Yusuke and Ryuji. 

The room was filling up. Plenty of people chatted along the walls and near the buffet, and there was always someone on the dance floor.

Then he noticed Sae staring daggers at one of the guests. Curious, he followed her gaze. 

The man on the receiving end didn’t seem out of place in this environment. He wore a fine tailored suit and smoothly moved among the other guests. To Akira, the most obvious stand-out was that he had actually bothered to buy a really cool mask. It looked sort of like fire licked his face. 

Akira moved a little closer. He must have been someone Sae recognized, but who was he?

Oh wow. It wasn’t all a mask. The man wore make-up and face paint to complete the look of flames.

So surprised was Akira that he didn’t notice the woman trailing behind the well-dressed man. He bumped right into her.

She staggered, grabbing onto one of his shoulders to steady herself. Her hands, concealed by a pair of opera gloves, provided a surprisingly strong grip.

“My apologies.”

She shook her head, brown and dark purple locks swaying across her shoulders. 

“No, I should apologize. I nearly took you down with me in my panic.” She smiled at him.

A rather insincere smile, he thought. Still, he could appreciate a bit of hollow politeness now and then.

She wore a black feather mask, the occasional dark purple feather providing an almost oily effect. Similar dark purple locks spread through her hair, giving a splash of color to the dark brown.

And then Akira realized he had to look up a bit. She was taller than him, though how much of that might be from heels he couldn’t tell.

Her dress continued the theme. Black feather trim along the wide-collar neckline, a corset with the rather odd combinations of deep red and dark purple, and a mostly black skirt splashed with similar purple. It almost looked striped.

In most lights, it would have looked like a red and black outfit much like his own.

“You’re staring.”

Akira started. “Sorry. You and your companion have clearly put in quite the effort on your masks and make-up.”

She chuckled. “He’s always like that.”

The man came forward. “Always like what?”

“Working too hard on your aesthetic.”

“I think I look beautiful, Masako.”

She playfully jabbed him with her elbow.

“Heh.” The man looked at Akira. “He’s closer to your age, Masako, if you want to hang out.”

“Are you sure?”

Akira could almost feel Sae throwing dagger gazes into his back.

“Would you mind?”

“Mind what?”

Masako gently touched his hand. “If we danced.”

Huh?

The man raised his champagne glass in a sort of mock toast. “Enjoy.”

“I guess I can dance,” Akira mumbled. He wasn’t used to being approached so bluntly.

Masako tugged him along to the dance floor. The man, guardian, sibling or date, Akira wasn’t sure, waved at them.

She was strong, easily pulling him into the thick of things.

She turned to face him, a big smile on her face. It didn’t look forced, but it didn’t look real either. The sort of smile he’d seen Anne wear at photo shoots. Masako was happy, but maybe not really this enthusiastic.

Akira got into position to lead a waltz.

“Do you dance often?”

He shook his head. Haru had given all of them a waltz crash-course in the morning.

“Well, you’re doing wonderfully.”

“You’ve been watching me.”

She looked away, a slight flush to her cheeks. “You’re hard not to watch,” she admitted.

A crush? Given the number of women he’d dated in this room, that could get dangerous.

She leaned in a little closer, looking at him again. Her cognac eyes sparkled behind the crow mask.

Crow mask.

“What’s your name?”

“Huh?”

“Tama blew mine, so what’s yours?”

“Akira Kurusu.”

“Akira,” she muttered. “A classic, but a goodie.”

So much for staying largely anonymous for this event.

Still, she was a good dance partner. She adapted well to tempo changes and beginner mistakes. Even though she hung a little close, she never stepped on his feet, and always dodged his own fumbles.

“Do you attend events like this often?” Akira asked.

“I used to,” she replied. She stayed holding one of his hands. “You’re quite graceful.”

“Thank you.”

Something about her flustered him. Maybe the fact she was taller than him? Or the iron grip she had on his hand?

She once more tugged him, this time to nab a couple of glasses of sparkling juice. She handed one to him.

“A toast.”

“To what?”

“Our meeting,” she tapped her glass against his.

“I guess I can toast to that.”

She chuckled. “You’re so quiet when you’re unsure.”

“I’m always happy to make a new friend. It’s just hard to gauge who you are behind that mask.”

“Really?” She almost looked disappointed. “I think it suits me quite well, but if you want to see the face behind,” she leaned in close, “then why not go somewhere more private.”

She sounded conspiratorial. And yet, Akira felt taken in. There was a playful tinge to her voice, and the way she spoke made him feel like he was supposed to know her.

Was she a Shujin student?

“If you need to make adjustments, Haru let us use a room to change in.”

“Wonderful.”

Akira began to lead her to the changing room. He needed to make sure it was somewhere a person might walk in on, else the girls kill this newcomer. 

Ryuji was struggling with his tie when they walked in.

“Whoa! You brought a girl.”

“I just need to make some adjustments,” Masako stated, sharp irritation in her voice. 

“Wasn’t Makoto at your house last night?”

Akira felt Masako’s grip tighten. 

Ryuji grinned at her. “Guess I better head out then.”

“Not like that you won’t.” She walked up to him and grabbed his tie. “Honestly, it’s eccentric enough without looking like a chimp tied it.” She had his tie straightened out almost immediately.

Honestly, Akira was in a bit of awe. He could do his own tie, but had never mastered it, and she had just put Ryuji’s up in a fairly complicated knot.

She handed Ryuji his skull mask.

“Wow. Thanks!” Ryuji grinned and headed out of the room. He made sure to close the door behind him.

“He really is an idiot,” Masako grumbled, voice dropping.

Akira turned. The scorn in her voice, and the depth, was impossible to ignore.

She sat on the bed, hands reaching behind her head to untie her mask. 

“I suppose he’s well-meaning at least.”

Her voice was much, much lower now. Mascuiline. Unless transgender, Masako was a he.

The mask fell in Masako’s lap. A familiar face stared up at Akira.

It took a moment with the long hair framing his face, the contouring removing almost all semblance of the person Akira had known.

“Akechi?”

“Took you long enough.” 

Akechi lifted up his feet, taking the opportunity to toss off his heels. 

What? How? Why?

“Wha-Ha-?”

Akechi stood, placing a finger on Akira’s lips. “I needed to talk one one last time.”

He removed his finger. “Apparently, when I passed out in the metaverse I reappeared in reality. Tama found me and has been hiding me in Yokohama. I asked to attend this event because I hoped you’d be here.”

“You’re alive.”

“Or you’re hallucinating.”

Akira smiled a little. This seemed so surreal, a supposedly dead guy who’d tried to kill him now standing in front of him in a ball gown just to talk to him? Even with the obvious risks?

“What did you need to talk about?”

Akechi moved back to the bed, indicating he wanted Akira to sit beside him.

Akira complied.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do next,” Akechi began, “but there’s something I wanted to tell you.”

“Must be important.”

“To me at least. I don’t know if it will matter to you, but Tama convinced me. He said that, at the very least, you’d probably feel better knowing I was alive.”

“I do,” Akira confirmed. It had felt like such a failure to lose a team member, even a treacherous one.

He didn’t miss the slight curl of Akechi’s lips. This one, small as it was, was genuine.

“Akira Kurusu,” Akechi looked up at him, “I think you’re beautiful. I have since I first laid eyes on you, and in that time you have proven to also be indgeneous, endearing, and shockingly sincere. You are confident and firm in your beliefs, something I have never once felt in my life. You are a natural-born leader, and I’m sorry I tried to kill you.”

Akira blinked in shock.

“In short, Akira Kurusu, I am rather infatuated with you. A state which has lasted long enough to perhaps be more than simple infatuation, but-”

For all that keeping his mouth shut usually worked for Akira, he just couldn’t. “You love me?”

Akechi turned beet red. “That is a rather succinct way of putting it, but yes. And it is a state which has haunted me since we first met. Perhaps even before.”

“Before?”

“You never got to see the shiner you gave Shido.” For a moment, Akechi looked positively smitten. “It was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.”

“Really?”

“Hmm-hmm.”

“And you still shot me in the face?”

“Nobody’s perfect.”

“That’s a far cry from perfection.”

“Yeah well,” Akechi looked to the opposite wall, “you’re not exactly perfect either. Seriously, how many hints does a guy have to drop?”

“Hints? For what?”

Akechi spun on him, glaring. It was really rather cute.

“That I was being coerced. That I found you attractive.”

“Hey, we picked up on you being a persona user.”

“I hate that cat.”

“He’s not a cat.”

“Worse than one then.”

Akira could help but grin. “Akechi.”

“Anyway, how did you leave hints about liking me?”

“Seriously? I always stood behind you.”

“What’s that...Oh. You were staring at my ass.”

If Akira thought beets were bright, whatever color Akechi’s face hit now was something else.

“You have a nice ass.”

“Uh, thanks.”

“And ears.”

“Ears?”

“I like facial features, okay?”

“And asses.”

“Only really good ones.”

“High standards then?”

“Now you’re just teasing me.”

Oh damn, his voice was cracking. 

“Sorry, but the fact you have a crush on me is actually harder to absorb than the fact you’re alive.”

“I understand,” Akechi replied flatly. He stood. “I’ll leave then. There’s no reason to hang around here if we’re done talking.”

“Wait.” Akira reached out, grabbing an arm. “We’re not done talking yet.”

Akechi looked at him like a deer in the headlights.

“I want to get to know you. Without all the pretense.”

“We don’t really have time though, do we?”

“Where are you staying? I could meet up with you.”

Akechi stood right in front of the still seated Akira. His eyes seemed dim.

“I plan to make my decision tomorrow.”

“Your decision on what?”

“My next step.”

“What’s that mean?”

“What punishment do you think I deserve?”

Punishment? He’d, he’d just wanted to...He’d murdered people, including at least one of his friends’ parents, probably two. He’d hurt people beyond that. He’d nearly killed Akira.

Still, Akira couldn’t let go.

“I’m just facing some time in juvenile detention.”

Akechi shook his head. “Everyone thinks you did the right thing. Ultimately, your only crime is disobeying a probation you should have never been on in the first place.”

His voice lowered. “I killed people. Using methods nobody understands. I disrupted society for my own gain. Do you really think I’ll get off so lightly?”

“Goro,” Akira muttered.

“You’ve never called me that before.”

“I don’t want you to go. Not if you’re just going to turn yourself in.”

“But isn’t that your justice? You change people’s hearts, make them confess their misdeeds, and then sentence them to cages.”

Akira shuddered, his grip loosening. He’d seen them in the depths of Mementos, all the caged, including those the Phantom Thieves had targeted.

And now all of them, from Kamoshida to Masayoshi Shido, were behind bars.

Goro pulled free from his grasp.

“They’ll lock me up and throw away the key.”

“I’ll visit you.”

“Doubtful. Odds are quite high that a life of solitary confinement awaits me if I turn myself in.”

“If?”

With a deep sigh, Goro sat back down.

“It seemed so easy before. I would feed on my success until all good-will faded and the truth came out and then…”

“And then?”

“I would kill myself.”

Akira’s eyes widened.

“I have no intention of continuing on with the entire world looking down on me.”

“I don’t look down on you.”

“And yet you mock me for my feelings,” Goro murmured. He hung his head low, wig locks touching his knees.

“I, I’m sorry if I came across as mocking. You just surprised me.”

“It’s fine. I knew you didn’t feel the same.”

“I don’t want you to suffer.”

“Then let me die in peace.”

“There has to be another way.”

“I don’t want to live my life on the run.”

So, he really had been considering his various options.

“I want to save you.”

“I don’t think you can.”

Akira touched Goro’s gloved hand.

“I have to try, but it only stands a chance if you try too.”

Goro looked at him. “Why? There’s nothing left for me to live for anyway.”

“We all felt terrible when we thought you were dead.”

“Then don’t bother telling the others I’m not. No reason to upset them twice on my account. It wasn’t even worth it the first time.”

Akira felt very torn between hugging him and smacking him. His life was worth something, damn it!

“I’ll work every day to get you out. I’m sure Sae will too. She’s decided to become a defendant and-”

“Akira, please, let me just die in peace.”

“No.”

“Akria.”

“No. I can’t!”

He wrapped his arms tight around Goro.

“I won’t let you kill yourself!

“Why?”

“Because you’re exceptional! You’re clever and determined. You fight on even when things go poorly. You smile sincerely before a challenge. You are incredible, and I’m sorry I didn’t help you sooner. So please,” he pulled back, “let me help you now.” 

“You’re selfish too. Did I mention that?” Goro muttered.

“Completely. Now, please, I want to see your eyes shine again. The way they turn red when you’re fired up, I think it’s beautiful. And…?”

“And?”

“You have a nice ass too.”

“Eh?”

“Sorry. It just had to be said.”

Goro’s face softened. “You noticed.”

“Of course I noticed. Do you really think I only swing toward girls?”

“You-”

Akira placed his hands on Goro’s shoulder. 

“I’ll go out with you, but only if you promise to let us save you.”

There was that light, Goro’s energy bringing a red shine to his eyes.

“You mean it?”

“I look forward to it.”

Goro wrapped his arms tight around Akira.

Akira grinned. He didn’t doubt for a moment that everyone, including Sae, would ultimately be on board. 

Sure enough, when he gathered everyone together the next morning, no one: no phantom thief, or Sae, or Sojiro, asked for a moment why. 

They all agreed Goro Akechi deserved a second chance at life, and they would do everything they could to give it to him. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of the stories I wrote for the ShuAke Secret Santa, but it gets kind of depressing and I thought I should gift someone a happier story. I've become rather obsessed with different ways their confessions could work out.


End file.
